


Lacking Performance

by Sandkopf



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Canon Universe, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Near Future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 17:11:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10167827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandkopf/pseuds/Sandkopf
Summary: "Yuuri heard Yakov say something about lacking and not having his priorities straight. Victor's voice was indifferent, and a hint annoyed, as he responded. Yuuri frowned in concentration but could only catch onto the conversation again when he heard the drop of his name. From the heated tone of their voices and the few words he could make out, the root of the problem became clear: Victor was being scolded by focusing too much on coaching instead of practicing himself."





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [medeadea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/medeadea/gifts).



> Before the assignment mails went out, I had a feeling I'd be getting you, Dea.  
> You wanted angst but got the master of fluff assigned to gift you but I did my best to weave in the angst and I hope you'll feel some satisfying pain. Enjoy!
> 
> Betad by wonderful Rynezion.

Yuuri shuffled into the kitchen, his feet barely leaving the floor as he moved, following the scent of coffee.

"Good morning, Yuuri!" Victor greeted him cheerfully, throwing a perfect smile his way. How he managed to be this awake this early in the morning whereas Yuuri could barely keep his eyes open, would forever stay a mystery to him. Dressed in a bathrobe, Victor stood in front of the stove preparing their breakfast, closely following the instructions of the Russian's team's nutritionist.

Yuuri helped himself to a cup of coffee, filling one for Victor as well and managed not to spill anything as he balanced them over to the table. Victor followed him with two plates, kissing Yuuri's forehead before he sat down in front of him.

Before Yuuri could take the first bite off his spoon, he yawned and cursed the night for having too few hours to sleep through. Victor chuckled.

"Told you not to stay too long on Instagram again." his voice was teasing, playful mockery mixed with scolding. Yuuri grumbled in agreement, knowing Victor was right but he couldn't sleep and Phichit had posted a lot yesterday.

"We need to get going in an hour." Yuuri's mouth stretched into another yawn in response, nodding. Sipping his coffee, the heat and caffeine finally bringing some life to his limbs, he listened to Victor talking about the book he was currently reading, some corny love story between a barista and a high class manager, that Chris had recommended to him. Yuuri smiled as he listened, not quite following the plot but enjoying Victor's soft, happy voice. This was so much better than their daily Skype calls they had to resort to until just a few weeks go, so much better than the struggle to coordinate around training schedules and timezones. Sitting right in front of him, listening to him without a crack in the connection, looking at him without a screen blurring his image. Moving in with Victor in St. Petersburg had been the best decision for the both of them after all, although admittedly a bold one. Yuuri also could hardly believe he was training at Victor's home rink, which he had only seen on posters and interviews before, together with Viktor and a majority of the other Russian skaters. The thought of how the events of his life had turned out still left him in awe sometimes.

Soon after they finished eating, Makkachin nudged Victor’s leg, getting impatient. While they were changing into comfortable sportswear and going through their stretches, the dog was restlessly jumping around the two, leash caught between his teeth.

The streets were already busy, bustling with tired, grumpy looking people with steaming to-go cups in their hands. One of the first times jogging here Yuuri got horribly lost and had to call Victor to get him, though, he couldn’t tell him in which street he was or what the names of the shops surrounding him were. Eventually, Victor picked him up in front of a McDonald's, the worldwide chain restaurant coming in handy for orientation.

Now, Yuuri was familiar with their daily route and also picked up enough Russian to be able to ask for directions and read the street signs, even if his voice was still heavy with accent trying to form the correct pronunciation. But the initial strangeness of the place has vanished, Yuuri adapting to the new place much quicker than he had to Detroit, so many years ago.

After bringing Makkachin back home, they made their way to the ice stadium, sports bags thrown into the trunk of Victor's car. At first it had been weird for Yuuri to have Victor drive them to practice. In Hasetsu, his feet had brought him to his destination, rink and home very close to each other. In Detroit, it had only been a few subway stations away, though the ride had always been uncomfortably crowded.

In Russia however, Victor knew the streets perfectly and was familiar with navigating the horrible traffic, people crossing the streets randomly, loud honks echoing from everywhere. It didn't seem to faze him at all, Yuuri noted with fascination.

Yuuri suggested to focus on jumps for today's practice, to see what they could use for the new choreographies. His short program was almost finished, Victor starting to work on it already when Yuuri was still in Japan. Victor had found the song coincidentally and had immediately called Yuuri to tell him about it. Steps and spins had come to him easily, the dynamic yet tentative melody reminding him of Yuuri. When Yuuri had listened to the song, he had questioned why Victor wouldn’t use it himself but he had dismissed it quickly, stating that only Yuuri could bring it to life. The thought still made his stomach prickle.

"You should also decide on a song for your free skate, soon," Victor said, causing the faint guilt to churn in Yuuri’s stomach. They had commissioned a composer again for his and Victor's free skate, but Yuuri had yet to decide which direction he wanted his song to go to. Victor was already in deep discussion about his piece with the musician and was getting snippets to listen to from her. However, he refused to share them with Yuuri just yet, always smiling when he denied the request, like he was having the time of his life not letting Yuuri in on his secret.

There were a few people in the changing room already, getting into easy conversation with Victor. Yuuri caught bits and pieces of the Russian exchange, mostly simple small talk about the weather and the like. He was certainly getting better at understanding the language and Victor was glad to help him, especially with reading and pronouncing words. The new alphabet was hard to grasp sometimes and he would confuse letters, misspelling them. Every time when he lost the thread in a conversation, he would get annoyed and more often than not, needed Victor to engage him back into it.

The rink was mostly empty. Of the people already practicing, two have just transferred to St. Petersburg, just as Yuuri. It wasn’t unusual for the rink to be relatively empty this time of the day, the junior division wasn’t on schedule until later. Yuuri scanned the room in search of Yurio, but couldn't find him. Instead Mila-san waved to him in greeting, beside her another female skater, Adelina-san, who gave him a cheerful smile.

At first, Yuuri had felt overwhelmed by the talent and discipline of all these new faces he was supposed to train along with. This odd feeling was fueled by the fact that he wasn't sharing a coach with them, that he didn't belong to any of the coaches around the rink. He felt judged by the people, the glares seemingly accusing him of making Victor his coach while he was competing himself again. Victor has been completely unfazed, greeting everyone with a cheerful smile and trained with Yuuri as if he didn’t notice the looks people were giving them at all. To nobody’s surprise, his first day of training had gone horrible.

Wherever he was, though, the feeling of his skates running over the ice would always be familiar, calming. The ice had always welcomed him when he was feelings down, nervous and anxious. A few weeks have gone by, the stares have subsided and Yuuri wasn't bothered much by it anymore anyway. It was Victor's decision to coach him while being a competitor and he would do his best to show everyone that no part of this arrangement had been a mistake. He even made friends with some of the others, falling into increasingly easier conversations when meeting them.

Suddenly, two hands were setting on his hips, pulling him out of his reverie and gently pushing him forward. He could feel Victor's lips hovering by his left ear, whispering. "Shall we start?" Yuuri nodded, took a deep breath and turned around.

"I'll show you my best jumps, today!"

Victor's smile lit up his whole face.

*

As it turned out, Yuuri has only been showing half of his best jumps today. His triple axel was flawless but as soon as he wanted to use it in combination, he was over-rotating or had little momentum to complete it, making his jumps double instead. His knees hurt from failing to land the quadruple flip properly, his legs giving out on him on the last second and buckled several times.

Yuuri flopped down on the couch, groaning.

"Don't pull such a face," Victor said, greeting Makkachin with a hug. "You were too hasty with your combinations today and that took over all your other jumps. But your spins were really good. You're making that short program your own."

That made Yuuri smile. "It's a beautiful choreography."

"It takes more than a pretty choreography to make a performance work."

"Of course."

Yuuri watched Victor as he was petting Makkachin. Since they were training along each other, both for the sake of competing this coming season, Yuuri could watch Victor skate from yet another perspective. He had always followed his performances closely, the amazingly executed programs on ice, with perfectly chosen music and stunning costumes. When Victor had moved to Japan to coach Yuuri, he had seen him skate differently yet again. Still distinctively him, but this time its purpose was to teach, to pass down his knowledge and experience. Yuuri was skating beside him for the most part, or on his own, with Victor watching from the sidelines. Now having Victor as a coach and a competitor, Yuuri had a found a third facet to Victor's skating. This time, he was not only teaching Yuuri, but also himself again, practicing jumps, spins, steps. It was fascinating to watch, seeing the birth and growth of a Victor Nikiforov performance straight from its roots and core. It was grounding to see that even Victor struggled with timing, flopped a jump or lost his balance once in a while. In his years of idolizing him, Yuuri has never considered this side of Victor, especially not as he was gaining more success, had never considered that he could have the same troubles Yuuri had in training. Or was it because of the year lacking practice, spent on training Yuuri instead?

Out of the blue, Victor was swinging himself over Yuuri to sit on his lap. He tenderly cupped Yuuri's face with his hands and leaned in close. "What are you thinking about so intensely?"

"Hm?" their eyes met, Victor's shining with curiosity. "Nothing in particular."

Victor pressed a kiss, short and sweet, to Yuuri's lips. "Really? Nothing at all?" he asked, clearly not believing a word Yuuri was saying.

"Just about how happy I am to be here." he could feel his stomach prickle at the words underlining his statement.

Victor's nose turned a subtle shade redder, lips pulling into a huge grin. "I'm happy, too," he whispered, mouth brushing against Yuuri's ear.

Yuuri slung his arms around Victor's torso, pressing him close. It was true. Even though his training regime has picked up by a notch, even though he was away from his family yet again, even though he could barely understand the people around him, he probably hasn’t been this happy in his entire life before.

*

Groaning, Yuuri took off his skates. They had a particularly hard training session that day and his feet were aching. He massaged them carefully before putting on his street shoes. Luckily he was wearing an old, loose pair that didn't press on any sensitive spots too hard. He would have to let them rest a bit more tomorrow. After packing his stuff, he made his way outside, saying his good-byes in Russian to the people loitering in the halls. His greeting was either reciprocated or blatantly ignored. Yuuri couldn’t held it against them – he knew how hard it was at times to interact with people, especially when training had been terrible.

Through an open door in the corridor, Yuuri could hear Victor's voice and he made his way towards it. He wanted to go home and get something to eat as fast as possible, starving from the intense training day. It was just fair to be allowed a small reward of delicious food for his effort today. However, when he heard Yakov’s loud voice, he stopped mid-step. He didn't sound happy, not at all. Victor and him were speaking very quickly, interrupting each other, talking at the same time, which made it hard for Yuuri to understand. Rationally, he knew he shouldn't eavesdrop but when he caught the gist of the conversation he couldn't help himself, concentrating hard on the lulls and highs of the foreign language to understand more. The conversation seemed to revolve around Victor's performance.

Yuuri tensed, unable to move away.

He heard Yakov say something about lacking and not having his priorities straight. Victor's voice was indifferent, and a hint annoyed, as he responded. Yuuri frowned in concentration but could only catch onto the conversation again when he heard the drop of his name. From the heated tone of their voices and the few words he could make out, the root of the problem became clear: Victor was being scolded by focusing too much on coaching instead of practicing himself.

A big lump was closing Yuuri's stomach, his appetite gone in an instant.  
He had noticed that Victor's own pieces were still incomplete, his free skate still missing some elements that Victor had not yet decided on. Yuuri's programs on the other hand, were mostly finished apart from subtle changes to leave space for experimenting with his jumps. Victor’s voice echoed in his head, reassuring him that the state of his choreographies was not unusual for him. He had always used to make surprising changes even when competitions were coming dangerously closer. But Yuuri couldn't shake the feeling that it was too much for Victor to monitor four very different performances at once.

"Yuuri?" he heard his name spoken closely and just then realized that Victor was standing in front of him. He was wearing a big smile on his face.

"Let's go have dinner. I'm in the mood for hot pot, what do you think?"

It took Yuuri a moment to gather his thoughts and focus on what was happening right now. With the argument Victor just had, Yuuri wasn't prepared for such a calm atmosphere. Before he could answer anything, Victor was linking their arms together, pulling him along through the main door, cheerfully chattering about nothing in particular.

* * *

Victor was getting sick of the arguments. This wasn't the first time Yakov had wanted to see him about it. He was a strict coach, which was frustrating to deal with at times, but he was an excellent mentor in every sense, knowing when to be stern and when to be gentle. His support was always helpful. But the conversations they were having lately were bearing a heavier topic, one that Victor didn't want to argue about.

He got scolded, again and again, for spending more time on Yuuri's performances than he did on his own. And of course he did! It was only natural for Victor that he would keep a careful eye on what Yuuri was doing, that he would practice his programs more often, that he would show Yuuri the jumps that he needed help with which Victor could basically land in his sleep. It made so much sense to Victor, he didn't understand why it didn't to anybody else.

He wanted to compete against Yuuri, he wanted to win against Yuuri – but at the same time, he wanted to see Yuuri on top of the podium just as much. So he was helping him with everything he could give. That his own performances were getting less time to work on was completely fine since he knew what he could and couldn’t do and how to present himself. Why spent the remaining time where he was quick to finish when it was spent so much better on Yuuri?

Nobody else seemed to share that opinion though. And it was annoying the hell out of Victor.

After their dinner, he and Yuuri drove in relative silence back to their flat and picked up Makkachin to go for their evening walk. Victor could see Yuuri was pondering something, saw a problem he tried to solve in his eyes. While he was wondering what it might be, wanting to help, he let him stay quiet about it for now. Accompanied by the dog, it was easier to relax for the both of them somehow. Victor could push aside everyone's scolding and unwanted comments, and Yuuri seemed to be able leave his thoughts behind as well for the moment. As he was reciting an old story about his dog Vicchan, a hilarious story featuring a boot and a seagull, Victor's mood had improved significantly, laughing out loud full heartedly. In moments like this, being with Yuuri, spending his everyday life with Yuuri, he understood even less how he was supposed to not prioritize him over everything else.

The next morning, however, Yuuri was particularly silent over breakfast again. He stared out of the window a lot but Victor couldn't follow the spot he had fixated. The question unknown to Victor had returned, occupying his fiancé's head. In all honestly, Victor had to admit that it was quite fascinating watching Yuuri like this, examining the furrow of his eyebrows, the set of his slightly open mouth. His thoughtfulness was so visibly painted on his face that Victor could almost hear his thoughts racing. Slowly, his gaze wandered to Victor until their eyes met. Yuuri's cheeks turned a little red, his eyes widening a bit like a kid being caught with a hand in the cookie jar.

"Is there something on my face?" he finally asked, wiping a thumb over the corner of his mouth.

“No,” Victor simply answered, smirking.

Yuuri mirrored the smile, albeit looking a little confused.

"Today I want you to do your free skate in one go again. No matter your mistakes, you gotta go through it today," Victor said then, standing up to get another cup of coffee.

Yuuri's eyes were turning a little dark again at the suggestion, his face hardening just a bit.

"Okay," he agreed, voice croaking as if he wanted to say it with more confidence but it turned out as a whisper instead.

"What is it?" Victor asked, standing beside Yuuri with a refilled cup.

"It's nothing."

"Yuuri." Victor laid a hand on Yuuri's shoulder. Yuuri's hands were curled tight in his lap, nervously kneading each other. "Is something bothering you?”

Frowning, Yuuri looked to the side to avoid Victor's gaze as much as possible.

"It's... it's just," Yuuri murmured. "What about your programs?"

Victor blinked his eyes several times. "What about them?"

"Don't you have to work on yours as well?"

So this was what he was thinking about. Victor let out an annoyed sigh. Why was everyone so focused on his performances?

Yuuri shrank a little in his seat.

"They just need a little polishing. That is not unusual," he explained.

"But... you have put more attention on mine..."

"Because I am your coach. Because I want you to do your best!”

"But..."

"Yuuri" Victor interrupted firmly. "I really enjoy being your coach and practicing with you. Believe me when I say that I'm not neglecting my training, okay?” he leaned in closer, murmuring into Yuuri's ear. “I'm gonna beat your ass at the Grand Prix Finale, you'll see."

That made Yuuri light up, finally. He raised one hand from his leg and entangled it with the one on his shoulder, squeezing it ever so softly. His eyes gleamed when they made contact again.

"Not if I kick your ass first."

*

Victor's hip connected with the ice, hard. He caught the rest of the fall with his arms, stopping his face from meeting the cold surface as well. A deep groan escaped his throat.

"Vitya!" Yakov yelled and by the tone, Victor knew exactly the expression he was making. All muscles tight, eyes wide, mouth open in anger. He could sort of understand him, though. This was a jump he hadn't had a problem with in a very long time. He got up again and rubbed his hips, already feeling the bruise blooming.

In the corner of his eyes, he saw Yuuri standing, looking at him with an anxious face. To not worry him further, Victor smiled at him, waving lightly. "I'm okay!" he called. Because he was.

Yakov continued to swear at him, demanding to come closer. It felt unnecessary to Victor since he already knew what he was be going to say, but he skated over nevertheless. No use in angering him further.

Yakov was scolding him as best as he could while Victor was pressing an icepack to his hip. It was true that Victor had his mind set on prioritizing Yuuri's performance but Yakov managed to actually raise the competitive spirit in him, wanting to get at least one of his world records back. He was not quite sure how he did that, but Victor definitely had to pick up some more of this technique to motivate Yuuri just as well.

"Competitions draw closer and you're still not in your old top form! I don't even remember when you last failed that jump!"

"I'm sorry," Victor said light-hearted "I'll do better next time."

"I hope you will do more than that. You must not fail your comeback."

"Yes, coach." Victor said and gave the icepack back to the assistant, turning around to claim the ice again. Yuuri was drawing closer, face still tense.

"Are you okay?" he asked, very softly as if he found it hard to force the words out.

"Yes, of course," Victor assured him. "There'll be a little bruise but nothing severe."

"And Yakov?"

"Ah, he was giving me a good lecture." he laughed. "He really knows how to do that."

Yuuri bit down on his bottom lip, his eyes following a pattern on the ice. A look he was wearing more often lately.

Victor swallowed. "Are you okay?"

Caught off guard, Yuuri looked up. "I...? Yeah, yes, of course. Just, uhm... worried. About your hip."

"It's nothing." Victor tried to hold eye contact for longer than two seconds but Yuuri would dodge him. No use, at the moment.

"Let's go back to practice. I want to see your quads again.”

Yuuri nodded. "Yeah."

*

Victor winced. This was the fourth time he watched Yuuri flop a jump and the newest was just a simple double toe loop. He raised his index finger to his lips, eyebrows in a deep frown as he wondered what had happened to make Yuuri this dazed.

While he was skating towards him, Yuuri kneeled on the ice, hands curled into tight fists.

"Yuuri," Victor said. "No jumps for today anymore." the more mistakes he makes, the worse his mood will get and thus the rest of the day will go down the drain too. "Let's go through your step sequence instead." It was what Yuuri was best at.

"Just one more…," Yuuri began but Victor interrupted him firmly.

“No. It's useless like this.”

Lips set into a straight line, Victor feared for a second that Yuuri would start crying.

But even the step sequence didn't want to work. He tripped several times, stumbled and even fell once. With worried eyes, Victor stared at the mess that was his fiancé, no idea what had happened and what he should do.

"Yuuri..." he started, when he skated closer. But Yuuri kept his gaze down, bangs of hair covering his eyes. He passed Victor wordlessly and left the ice. Victor followed him to the changing rooms.

"Don't worry about it too much." Victor tried to cheer him up, as Yuuri tugged on his laces in frustration. "Everyone has a bad day once in a while."

He didn't receive an answer.

"Do you want to do some stretches before we head home?"

Yuuri shook his head. "You should still practice. I'll be heading home."

This statement took Victor aback. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't want to stop you from practicing is all. I've been living here long enough, I know my way around."

Somehow, Victor thought, this didn't sound at all like he meant the public transportation of St. Petersburg.

"Don't be silly. I'm not letting you use the subway when my car is right here." he stated simply, sitting down on the bench. Victor moved to smooth a hand on Yuuri’s thigh, but he could see the slight flinch in his muscles at the gesture. By now he could read the signs of when Yuuri didn't want to be touched. So instead, Victor guided the hand to his own skates, taking them off one by one.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Yuuri's hands tightening around the fabric of his training pants. 

"Let's go home, Yuuri," Victor said softly.

Pressing his lips shut, Yuuri followed him.

*

At home, Yuuri immediately excused himself to take a bath. Victor let him, giving him the space he wanted. But he was unsure how to proceed further, how he could lift Yuuri's mood again. It was true that since Victor had been his coach, he never had such an horrendous training session, where absolutely nothing wanted to go right.

Victor decided to get take out for dinner. The local Japanese delivery service wouldn't be as good as the dishes Yuuri's mother was able to make but they were good enough to be of cheering up material for now.

When the food arrived, and Yuuri still hadn't come out of the bathroom, Victor got worried and knocked on the door, carefully.

"Yuuri, dinner is here," he said.

"Sorry, yes, I'm coming!" Yuuri's voice sounded small and hurried.

When the bathroom door opened, Victor had just finished setting the table. Upon seeing Yuuri, his stomach twisted. He looked miserable, and through the redness of his face, caused be the hot water, and the tiredness of the day, Victor could see that Yuuri had been crying.

"Yuuri," he began, stepping closer to him, lovingly pushing Yuuri's wet strands of hair from his forehead. More words wouldn't come to him, his mind empty. Why was this so hard?

Yuuri shook his head slightly, not enough to indicate he wanted to get rid of the touch. "I'm okay. Don't worry." and Victor knew it was a lie.

However, when Yuuri seemed to notice the smell of familiar food, a small smile appeared on is lips.

"You got my favorite," he said, taking Victor's hand from his head to entwine their fingers. "Thank you."

In response, Victor kissed Yuuri's temple.

He knew that the problem wasn't out of the world but he was glad that he could at least get a smile out of Yuuri. This would have to do for tonight.

*

When Victor woke up, rain was tapping against the windows. Beside him, Yuuri was still sleeping, curled in his blankets, hair a messy crown around his head. Hopefully, he'll feel better after a good night's rest. Makkachin raised his head from his place in Yuuri's arms and looked like he was considering leaving the warm bed or settle in for some more cuddling. To no one's surprise, he decided for the latter. Taking his phone with him, Victor got up and silenced the alarm that would have gone off in twenty minutes anyway. Before he quickly went through his bathroom routine, he set up the coffee machine, the rich smell waking up his senses.

As he poured two mugs of coffee, Victor started to wonder why Yuuri hadn't joined him yet. He was usually drawn close by the smell of freshly brewed coffee and his alarm should have rang by now, too.

He went to the bedroom to check, steaming mugs in his hands, and found Yuuri still lying in bed, Makkachin pressed close to him.

"Yuuri," Victor said softly and repeated himself, when he didn't get an answer, his voice in a sing song. "Yuuri."

But Yuuri only grumbled when he couldn't ignore Victor any longer, sinking deeper into the mattress, hiding his face in Makkachin's fur.

Startled, Victor set the mugs down on the night stand and settled down on the bed.

"Yuuri," he said gently. “Wake up, sleeping beauty."

With a loving gesture, he ran his fingers along Yuuri's forehead, combing his hair back.

In response, Yuuri shook his head.

Victor swallowed. The suspicion grew that Yuuri wasn't just in a grumpy morning mood. Something was up, after all. Something big. But Yuuri wouldn't tell him.

He kept brushing over his hair in silence, working out knots as best as he could with his fingers. Since they moved in together, things have never gone wrong to the point where Yuuri didn't even want to leave the bed anymore. Victor was desperately looking for something to say, to do. There had to be something.

Eventually, he got out the one question burning on his tongue. "Yuuri, what happened?"

At last, Yuuri mumbled something into the pillow but Victor couldn't understand him.

"Come again?" Victor whispered, leaning in closer, not even sure which language Yuuri had used.

"'s getting late," Yuuri spoke a little louder, if just a tad "Don't miss your practice."

Victor's brows furrowed in confusion. How was he even supposed to think about practice right now?

"What are you talking about? You'll miss training, too, if you don't get up soon."

"I'm not feeling well," Yuuri answered. "Go without me." and as an afterthought, almost inaudible, he added "It's better that way, anyway."

Victor swallowed. "What is that supposed to mean?" but instead of answering, Yuuri turned around, facing away from Victor. Makkachin took that moment to get up for now and waddled into the kitchen.

"Hey..." Victor stroked Yuuri's shoulder, feeling tense muscles. "Yuuri, please talk to me."

Only silence followed though, only the prickle of the rain against the windows and Victor's loud heartbeat reached his ears. His mind was racing. He didn't know what to do, how to react. He hadn't thought that the mood from yesterday would come back full force, even worse now, and he had now idea how to react. He couldn't just go to practice knowing that his Yuuri would be at home, feeling unwell, being sad. It didn't feel right to leave him alone at all. But Victor also didn't want to crowd Yuuri, fearing that it could have an opposing effect. Swallowing hard, Victor got up and went to the kitchen to fetch his phone. While returning, Victor called Yakov.

"Good morning, Yakov!" he greeted in his natural, cheering voice, the tone coming to him automatically. "Yuuri and I won't come to the stadium today so don't wait for us."

Yuuri must have picked up enough of the Russian words because he suddenly shot up from the bed, faced Victor with a horrified expression and raised his voice almost to a yelling. "No!"

“How dare you even thinking about such a call?!” Yakov was swearing through the line, getting angry as well.

As Yuuri was staring at him and Yakov scolding his ear off, Victor got a full look at Yuuri's face today for the first time and it ached his heart. He was looking distraught, heavy bags beneath read eyes, as if he hadn't slept at all. Maybe he hadn't. His bottom lip was red from being chewed on and his eyebrows pulled upward in a worried, shocked manner.

No, Victor would not leave Yuuri's side.

"I'm sorry, Yakov," he said, his words strengthened by his serious tone. "I'll be back tomorrow." With that, he hung up, cutting off any further comments.

"Don't miss training just because of me!" Yuuri protested, sitting up more to face Victor who got more confused by the minute.

"I can't just leave you alone! Do you really think I can concentrate on my training when I know that you're here feeling awful?!" he objected, anger mixing into his confusion.

They stared at each other, eyes locked firmly. Victor's chest rose heavily with every breath, trying to calm himself with every intake. Eventually, Yuuri looked away, hugging his legs close to his chest.

"Maybe I shouldn't have moved here."

The words were muffled, spoken against Yuuri's knees but Victor could make out every single one of them and felt his heart stop for a second. His face lost it's straight set, mouth and eyes widening in shock at the statement. He took a deep, shivering breath, trying to make sense of what Yuuri was saying. Did he want to leave him? Move back to Hasetsu? Break up not only their coach relationship? Was he unhappy? Was Victor making him unhappy? Everything he came up with made horrible sense and at the same time not at all. Victor stood frozen, staring at Yuuri, who made himself even smaller, pressing his forehead against his knees, his hands clutching the fabric of his pajama pants in a tight grip, knuckles whitening.

After several long moments, Victor managed to form words on his tongue again.

"Please don't leave me." he whispered.

It wasn't what he wanted to say, not at all. He had wanted to ask what Yuuri meant, to get Yuuri to talk, but he felt vulnerable and hurt and could only let out the truest words of his heart.

Yuuri's lifted his gaze at the words, wet eyes meeting Victor's again. It was impossible to guess what he was thinking.

Victor moved to the bed, shuffling closer to Yuuri and circling his hands around Yuuri's feet, needing some kind of contact.

"I don't want to leave you," Yuuri said, hiccuping at the end.

Victor took in another deep breath. A wave of relief washed over him but he forced it back. There was no reason to be relieved just yet, not if he still not knew what was going on.

"Then what do you mean?" he asks. "Why...?"

"I'm just a hindrance," Yuuri confessed, his tone sad but matter-of-factly. As if he used those words a lot. As if he had accepted their meaning a long time ago.

"Why would you think that?" Victor asked confused. Since he knew Yuuri, he had never been anything like a hindrance. He was the opposite. Yuuri had opened doors to Victor that he didn't even knew existed. He had shown him views he had never seen before, tasted things he had never tasted before, experienced emotions he had never felt before. With Yuuri coming into his life, everything had sharpened.

"I know Yakov and you keep arguing," Yuuri added as if he was the one receiving all the scolding. Yakov was handling him like he always had, serious and firm. Maybe he had adapted too much of Yakov's coaching into his own which Yuuri couldn't handle so well? He had been trying hard to be a better coach this season, getting tips from his own to improve his skills. But it all might have just backfired.

"Your free program is still not finished," Yuuri then mumbled. Victor didn't understand.

"That..." he wanted to say something, anything of comfort but he wasn't sure what the problem was. What did Yuuri care about his program? His owns were finished, and he was working on them to complete them, to fill them with life. He could...

Then, it finally dawned on Victor, realization punching him in the chest, taking his breath away. He tightened his grip on Yuuri's feet, massaging his thumbs over the skin.

"Yuuri," he said gently.

But Yuuri shook his head. "Everyone is expecting you to be at your greatest this season after your break. And you should be at your best, Victor, you should. But you keep concentrating on me and that is not how it should be and..." Yuuri's words were coming out fast and broken, tears streaming down his face.

Victor tensed. Having Yuuri cry in front of him made him helpless and guilty in his complete uselessness. His throat felt tight, words getting stuck. Victor could ignore the mean words of others, whispering, gossiping that being a coach was a mistake, that it was impossible to train Yuuri while practicing himself. They were all wrong. Of course it was hard, of course he wished sometimes to leave one career behind, to only coach. But it was good the way it was, even if no one else understood.

Discovering that Yuuri was feeling the same way as everyone else, seeing Victor's decision as a mistake hurt. Hearing that he shouldn't have come hurt.

"Yuuri, I love being your coach," he gasped. "I love working with you on your programs. I love seeing the progress you make. My own programs don’t need as much attention as...."

"How can your programs not need any attention?" Yuuri interrupted, shouting. "Don't you want your records back? Don't you want your title back? Why don't you see that you're ruining your career just because of me?" more tears were running over his cheeks, past quivering lips, dropping from his chin.

“That’s not what I meant,” Victor whispered and rested his head against Yuuri's knees, needing a moment to collect himself. How could he make Yuuri see what he meant to him? How would Yuuri understand that Victor was content with being his coach?

"You know," he began, raising his head to meet Yuuri again. "in Barcelona, the morning after you gave me the ring, I went to the sea." he let his one hand wander from Yuuri's foot to find his right hand, curling his fingers around it. "Yurio found me and kicked me and told me Victor Nikiforov was dead. He kind of sounded offended." he quietly laughed at the memory. "And he was right."

Yuuri shook his head. "I don't understand."

Softly, Victor smiled at him. "When I met you, I changed. I have been skating competitively all my life. When a season ended, I practiced for the next one. I won. I kept winning. And at some point I got bored. But then you came into my life. You danced with me and asked me to be your coach and I thought that you could save me from my boredom. And you did." his other hand was rising to cup Yuuri's cheek. While Victor was talking, Yuuri had calmed down a little, tears drying on his skin. He was looking at Victor questioningly.

"I know my decisions may be selfish," Victor continued. "But I am happy the way it is. Coaching you, practicing with you, being with you."

"You're an amazing coach," Yuuri whispered. "I want you to be my coach. But..."

Victor shook his head. "No buts. We both want this. So we're both doing it."

"I... I still don't understand," Yuuri admitted.

Victor swallowed. Through his own stress, he hadn't seen Yuuri's stress enough. Guilt pressed down on him, making it hard to move.

"We'll work on it." Victor said, shuffling even closer, encircling Yuuri in a warm embrace. "We'll figure it out.”

Yuuri hiccuped again, returning the hug, pressing Victor close to him.

"We'll figure it out."

Victor could feel Yuuri slowly relax into the embrace and their breath started to match as they slipped back to sleep. When they woke up again, the rain had stopped.


End file.
